


What You're Doing To Me

by Wunderchick



Series: Angsty Boyfriends With Communication Problems: the trilogy [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, kinda angsty i guess, len pov, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wunderchick/pseuds/Wunderchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The catch of this relationship, he thought, was in the end, he had no idea whether the kid was truly serious about it or just toying around with the notion."</p><p>Captain Cold is warming up, and it's a very bad, no-good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You're Doing To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Quick thing I wrote because I can't deal with the lack of ColdFlash in my life at the moment, and we all need to start somewhere, I guess. For anyone who may be interested in background music, I had the idea for this fic after listening to Kaiser Chiefs' "Ruby".
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd or anything, so let me know if you see any mistakes or inconsistencies!

The catch of this relationship, he thought, was in the end, he had no idea whether the kid was truly serious about it or just toying around with the notion. What did he care, adorable little Barry Allen, doe-eyed son of a dog (no insulting the dead, and his mom sounded like quite the nice lady), who had never needed question marks when writing about justice. Yeah, there was the whole thing with his father, but that didn’t count- there was no guilt there, no crime, just false —and understandable— assumptions on the cops’ part; and thus staying on the path to justice and flowers had always been an option for the kid.

So what could he understand of a man like Len, who had done the best he could with all the trash that had been thrown his way from a young age yet still ended up a criminal? Truth is, you can’t do much when you constantly draw the short end of the stick. But he had tried, god dammit, he had found jobs and a nice place for Lisa and him a few times, but it was never enough for all those bastards out there. Eventually, when you’re an under-graduate kid but you got brains, if you get tired of working harder than your manager for a shit pay, you turn to a life of crime. Nobody underestimates you there once you’ve proven yourself, and money flows right to your pocket. He bought great meals starting then, had a secure place for his sister, everything was finally looking up. Is it really a crime to survive when there’s nobody to care for you?

But he _had_ someone now, who could help him and guide him if need be, so he could leave his life of crime behind any day and turn back to the light. More or less in Barry’s words.

Bullshit, really. There would always be things to steal, to sell, to freeze; would Barry always be there? He accidentally traveled through time more than once, ran inside a black hole kind of shit and would probably do it again. He would die fifteen times a day for complete strangers and still feel he wasn’t doing enough. And when Barry left, because he would, what would Len have? Even if the kid could prove to the police the rogue had ‘changed’ (what a ridiculous word, did anybody truly believe that?), if he were to disappear, wouldn’t they just turn their back on him too? Or better yet, throw him in a cell, as people of their line of work were wont to do?

He wasn’t considering it. He wasn’t.

But pretending wouldn’t hurt. Playing it like he’d change his ways, like he wanted to be one of the boring, annoying good guys. It would make Barry happy, their relationship would sail calmer seas, not the usual rocky waters they went through at least once a month. They had set a rule right away that they would leave their professional lives out of this; Barry hadn’t lasted long (he never did), because apparently him trying to coax his partner into joining the good side of the force was a display of concern, but if Len tried the same then he was a bad influence. Go fucking figure.

Maybe that’s what he couldn’t understand. Since when were certain things so bad and others so good? Since when was the law an immutable force that nothing short of abiding by it was conceivable in a nice guy’s conscience? Wasn’t Robin Hood an all-time favorite exactly _because_ he stole expensive trash and redistributed it later? That was exactly what Len did, only the redistribution circle was much smaller. Could anyone be so rigid as to not see the joke there? Theft was only still a crime because people were petty and materialistic. Sure, back in the days when every drop of ale was a gift, you couldn’t mess around that much, or when the crops were bad and there wasn’t enough to eat for everyone. But it wasn’t like that in the present time, not in Central City. As long as people like the Rathaways existed, then so would guys like Len, and if those sickos cried the loss of one painting too many, then good for them. It would release what little water they hadn’t shed over cutting their son out of the family portrait.  
See? Leonard Snart could differentiate between good and bad guys too.

He wasn’t all that bad. Was he?

And, shit, since when was he doubting himself like that, asking that kind of questions? He had kept Lisa alive, that was all the proof he needed, and to hell with whoever wasn’t convinced by it! Damn Barry Allen, his bright green eyes, and his goddamn smile that could light the whole town. Len didn’t need him. He had been fine before him, and he would be fine without him, too. Back to the old days where no little voice at the back of his mind made planning heists difficult, no loose ties to the CCPD made him grit his teeth when he had to bruise an officer, and no bambi-like expression mellowed him out.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, _fuck_. This was exactly why he had pushed the kid away at first, he knew this was coming, he had great gut instincts and he knew, he fucking _knew_ nothing good would come out of it. Except the part where he was warm inside and his heart had stopped hurting so bad eventually. The part where sometimes, he’d hear a gust of wind and would find himself with an armful of excitable pup in under a second, and ordering pizza was a goddamn adventure. The part where his smiles came more easily because there was someone who could make every weakness seem like a strength, every doubt a certitude, and every regret a chance to move forward.

Truth be told, Len was in love with him.

He hadn’t told him yet. He doubted he ever would.

The catch of the relationship, he thought, was in the end, who could tell if the little bird behind the red mask was in love with Leonard Snart, ex-murderer and a thief, or with Len Snart, ex-thief and a what, cop? Hero? _Legend_? that adorable little Barry Allen, doe-eyed son of a detective, had made up and fallen in love with?


End file.
